If You Love Me
by LemondropDead
Summary: Hungary choses Prussia over Austria; shenanigans ensure. And can Austria really just let her go?
1. French Doors

He sat stock-still, fingers hovering over the polished keys. Mouth curving as he looked at her, Austria said, "If you love something, you have to let it go."

She waited, apron crumpled in her trembling fists. Though her eyes gleamed with uncertain, unshed tears, she said nothing and just stared at him.

Austria smiled tiredly, weakly. "And if it loves you, it may come back."

Hungary stared wide-eyed as he bent over the piano once again, musing over the keys. He played a single note, clear and poignant, and looked up.

Purple eyes blinked. "What are you waiting for?"

She didn't know, and didn't want to think about it. "Goodbye, Mr. Austria," she said quickly, as if trying to disguise the words that broke the silence. Shoes like rain against the wooden floor, she whirled around and fled the room, bolting through the French doors and into a pair of waiting arms.

"Calm down, Hungary," whispered a voice by her ear. Pressing her face into Prussia's chest, she let the tears slid down her cheeks. There was once a time when she wouldn't ever have cried in front of this idiot – even now she felt embarrassed by it – but it was impossible to hold her emotions in any longer.

Austria – trust that damn man to say something like that, just when she'd finally made her decision. Hungary would've liked to scream at him, or throw something at his arrogant face. Sure, they had been _married_ for a while. Sure, Hungary had once had _feelings_ for Austria. But… times had changed. She wanted to move on now. She'd fallen out of love – and right back in it again. With someone else.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she looked up into Prussia's crimson eyes. "Let's go," she whispered, voice breaking at the end.

He looked down at her, puzzlement spreading across his face. "Eh? You can go? Then why are you crying?"

"Shut up, Prussia." Hungary's voice trembled as she forced a smile. She was going to be okay, she just needed some time… "Let's get away from here."

He grinned wickedly, an expression that Hungary had learned to fear long ago. Scooping her into his arms, he let loose a wild laugh. A tiny yellow bird fluttered by his head. "This is going to be awesome! I'll introduce you to West, my little brother, and show you all around Europe, and…"

Hungary laughed weakly as he ran down the hallway, jabbering on about everything they would do together now that she was officially free of Austria. The way Prussia talked about things, it sounded like he intended to keep going places and doing things until there was nothing left to do or see. She sighed in his arms, watching the paintings in Austria's house blur together as Prussia sped down the hallway and towards the door. It seemed odd that she would never see them again.

Prussia slowed down as he reached the door, still talking at 100 miles per hour, and yanked it open. Sunlight spilled into the lonely house. A moment later they were gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and buttery sunshine and the echoes of an old life.


	2. Maturity Issues

West was, as usual, unsmiling and serious. _He ought to lighten up,_ Prussia thought, locking his ruby eyes with Germany's sapphire ones. Silver eyebrows twitched as the German kept staring steadily. If this was a contest, there was no way Prussia could win – which was completely unawesome.

Then Germany blinked.

"Haha, I win!" Prussia cackled. "The awesome me wins!"

"Cut it out," snapped Germany, completely ignoring the mug of beer in front of him – he must've been really annoyed, Prussia realized. They were at Germany's house because Prussia didn't really have a house… and it didn't seem like a great idea to stay with Hungary at France's or Spain's, for obvious reasons.

Resolving to keep Hungary away from the other 2/3s of the Bad Touch Trio, Prussia continued annoying his little brother. "Hahaha, West, you looked like you swallowed a lemon or something! What, cat got your tongue? Hahaha-!"

"Gilbert, shut up!" the German growled, slamming a heavy fist down on the table. The beer sloshed out of his mug and splattered on the table. Germany didn't seem to notice. He shook his head, blue eyes narrowed. "Gilbert, what were you thinking? You, in a long term relationship?"

Prussia grinned dementedly. "Oh, so that's what this is about, eh? Me and Hungary, eh, West?"

"You're too wild for her; Hungary was happy with Austria-"

"Old Priss? Nein, they were just friends with benefits."

Germany glared; Prussia giggled. Then the German cleared his throat. "Friends with benefits?"

"Yeah, y'know, like you and-"

"Enough," Germany said quickly, making his brother laugh so hard he almost choked. As Prussia struggled for breath, gasping over the table, Germany put his head in his hands.

"You know, Gilbert, you behave just like you did when we were children."

Prussia looked up for a moment, having almost regained his breath, and said raspily, "Eh?"

The blue-eyed German looked up to meet his brother's eyes. "You haven't grown up at all."

"Eh… nein, not really," Prussia agreed, leaning his elbows on the table. "Whattcha getting at, West?"

Germany sighed. "You are just in this for the sex, aren't you?"

_Huh?_ Prussia wondered, slightly taken aback by West's frankness. Red eyes widened, mouth slightly agape; it was the quietest he'd been all night. The statement had startled him, and not in an awesome haha-only-you-could-think-like-that-West type of way. He thought of Hungary – strong, vicious and violent at times, unnaturally domestic after so many years of fighting…

_Nah, West just doesn't realize how much I've matured, _Prussia decided. _I'm not in it for the sex… I think. _

"Gilbert?"

"Huh?"

Germany leaned in slightly, frowning. "What is wrong with you?"

Forcing a laugh, Prussia said, "Nothing, West."

His brother's blue eyes narrowed. Then he slumped back in his seat, sighing. "I worry about you."

Prussia smirked, attempting to recover his usual manner. "I worry about you, West. I mean, you and Feli-"

"Shut up!"

"Ja, but you're not denying it."

There was silence. Then the German cleared his throat, looking awkwardly around the kitchen. _Haha, _Prussia giggled silently, grinning wildly. _The awesome me is one up, West. _

Germany cleared his throat again. "Anyway, France invited us to his place to celebrate your…. Ah, you and Hungary getting together. He said that Spain would be there too." The German didn't look happy about the idea of the whole Bad Touch Trio under the same roof.

"That's awesome!" Prussia exclaimed, once again genuinely excited. As long as Hungary didn't come… "Hey, West, you're coming, right?"

"I… I don't know."

"Aw, come on! You need to hang out with normal people more, ya know? And if you bring Italy, he'll get to hang out with Romano!"

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP ABOUT ITALY?"

Prussia grinned.

Germany glared.

Then the kitchen door opened and Hungary walked in.


	3. Cake

A/N: Finally writing an author's note... opps. This was my first story and I lost faith/interest in it for a long time, but I'm going to take another stab at it now. I'm not really sure where the plot is headed but hey, who needs plot? (Just kidding.)

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, faved, or followed!

-LdD

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><p>"WOULD YOU SHUT UP ABOUT ITALY?"<p>

The yell came from the kitchen and echoed through the hall. Pausing as she recognized the voice, Hungary sighed. What was Gilbert doing now…? Muttering under her breath, she opened the kitchen door and walked in.

Germany and Prussia looked up at her and then froze. The Germany's mouth hung open slightly but his brother seemed more amused than mortified. _Of course, what on earth could embarrass the awesome Prussia?_ Hungary thought, confused and slightly irritated. She sighed again and said, "Gilbert, are you annoying Ludwig again?"

There was silence for a moment. Then the red-eyed Prussian shrugged. "Ja, I guess."

Hungary put her hands on her hips, not entirely sure what to do about the situation, but certainly not about to let anyone catch on to that fact.

"I am sorry for disturbing you, Elizabeta," Germany said, sending his brother a sapphire glare from across the table. He glanced at Hungary again, as if unsure of something, and said, "Gilbert, don't you have something to tell Elizabeta?"

"Eh… nein?"

"What, Gil?" Hungary said, fixing her eyes on the Prussian.

Glancing at Germany, Prussia shrugged. "I don't know what you're trying to say, West."

The blond German shook his head slightly and stood up, grabbing his mug of beer from the table. Hungary watched him as he walked to the sink and set the mug down on the counter. Without turning around, Germany said, "France thought it would be fun to-"

"Nein, Francis didn't think anything!" Leaping up from the kitchen table, Prussia stood and crossed the room to clap his brother on the shoulder. "Right, West? Haha, ri—"

"No," Germany interrupted, turning around quickly. Hungary thought she saw something strange in his eyes – it seemed almost as if he was challenging Prussia, while celebrating a victory over his brother at the same time. "No," he continued, turning to Hungary. "Elizabeta, France wants to hold a party celebrating you and Gilbert. I think you two should go together."

"What?" Gilbert exclaimed, punching his brother's should again – this time much harder. "Liz wouldn't like that at all, Francis and Antonio are too _weird_ for her. Right, Liz?"

Hungary's green eyes narrowed. Of course Gilbert wouldn't want her anywhere near the whole Bad Touch Trio while they were partying. Smiling in her infamous deadly-sweet way, she said, "Of course I'll go, Gil."

The Prussian gulped, and punched his brother's shoulder again. "But Liz-!"

"Would you stop hitting me, you idiot?!" Germany growled, giving Prussia a shove.

Cringing, Prussia yelped and gasped out, "Hey, West, you should bring Feliciano!"

Germany went pale.

_Oh…. _Hungary thought, trying to hide a smile as she remembered living with Austria and the adorable –and incredibly gender-confused- Italian. _Feliciano and Ludwig… what a cute couple. _

She managed to mask her smile as the now furious German said, "Elizabeta, I am afraid you will have to excuse us for a few minutes while I speak with my brother."

Arms crossed over his chest, Germany glared at Prussia. The silver-haired man was cackling maniacally, hitting a kitchen cabinet over and over again and making the dishes inside rattle. Pausing to wipe a tear from his eye, Prussia said, "Ah, West… You should see your own face… it's funny."

"Gilbert…"

"Ja, West?"

"Outside. Now."

Swallowing as he finally seemed to realize that Germany was serious, Prussia stopped laughing. "Yes, brother."

Grabbing the Prussian by both shoulders, Germany steered him out the door, muttering in German so heavily accented that Hungary could barely tell what he was saying. It didn't sound good. She giggled despite herself, unable to control her laughter. Poor Germany, stupid Prussia… it was hard to believe that Ludwig was actually younger.

Sighing, Hungary started looking through the kitchen cupboards. Maybe she could make a cake; certainly Germany would have the basic ingredients, even though he didn't bake as much as Austria…

_And what was all that about France and France's party?_ Hungary wondered. Did Gilbert really think she'd never seen him doing stupid things before? She found a cake pan, a bowl, and a spoon. The measuring cups were in one of the higher cupboards, she recalled. Opening the refrigerator, she began to search for basic ingredients. 

_Gil really is stupid, _Hungary decided, pulling out a carton of milk. _He can't seem to avoid making Ludwig angry… and Ludwig always kicks his ass for it. _

"AAAHHHHH!"

"COME BACK HERE GILBERT!"

Hungary laughed to herself as she began mixing the cake batter. She totally predicted that one.


	4. The Love God

A/N: Thank you for all favs, follows, and especially comments!

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><p>Situated in the south by the Mediterranean Sea, France's villa was absolutely gorgeous. Simple yet sweeping, with open terraces and marble pillars and a garden with roses in full bloom – well, even Austria, quality snob though he may be, had to admit that it was one of the nicest houses he'd ever been in. Not anything compared to his own, of course, but impressive all the same.<p>

Even though hiding in the rose bushes didn't afford him a proper view. Not to mention, his purple coat didn't exactly blend in. From his vantage point in the bushes, Austria sighed to himself as he watched Prussia, Italy, Germany, and Hungary walk up to the front door. Germany rang the doorbell; Austria watched the group file inside – Prussia and Italy bouncing, Italy babbling to France about something random, Germany scowling like a man led to the gallows – and then the door swung shut.

Well, now what?

Completely sure that all the guests had arrived, Austria extracted himself from the rosebushes and brushed dirt off his coat. _I really ought to leave now_, he thought to himself, glancing around, _just in case someone sees me. _

Because stalking your ex-wife usually came across as creepy. Even if you just wanted to make sure her new (jerk!) boyfriend treated her right.

Austria sighed again and turned away from the house. And then he paused.

Well… it wouldn't hurt to check out France's kitchen, would it?

_Just out of curiosity,_ he thought to himself. _That's not stalking. I just want to see if France's kitchen is as wonderful as the rest of his house…._

No, certainly not stalking. Of course not!

Straitening his coat, he strolled alongside the house, ducking under the open windows. Prussia, Spain, and France laughed loudly about something, Germany growled at Prussia, and Italy yelled about pasta with Romano, but Austria couldn't hear Hungary at all. Admiring the well-kept flowerbeds, Austria crept to the back door of the kitchen and peered through the window. All clear, no one inside. He smiled, tugged at his neck chief, and opened the door.

France's kitchen _was_ gorgeous – all light-colored wood, some brick, and a big island counter in the middle. Copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling, spices and herbs filled jars on wooden racks, and an artfully arranged bowl of fruit sat on one end of the counter. Austria examined a pot of soup simmering on the stove and took a taste – oh, French cooking was to die for. Not that he'd ever tell that crazy egotistical manic, of course.

And then he looked towards the far end of the island and stopped short.

A cake sat on the counter, on a blue plate with a fancy doily. Chocolate icing swirled over the face of the cake; delicate piping around its edges revealed a master hand – one that Austria recognized.

Hungary made that cake.

He edges around it, trying to see it from every angle as if by anonymously admiring her handiwork, he can somehow honor her. The cake is beautiful, a real masterpiece. _Well, of course it is,_ he thinks, smiling faintly.

"Austria?"

He whirled around to find France staring from the doorway, open-mouthed with one eyebrow raised. Eyes flickering from the Frenchman to the door, Austria tried to decide whether to bolt or explain, but it was as if he was frozen in place.

Well, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Roderich, what are you doing here?" France said, shutting the door behind him slowly and quietly. Keeping an eye on Austria, he walked to the stove to stir the soup.

"I… well, Francis…"

"It's about Hungary, is it not?" France winked a blue eye, sauntering over to Austria. "I know love when I see it, mon ami."

Austria harrumphed, trying to back out of the situation with at least a shred of dignity. If only he could just get to the back door and run… but France threw an arm around his shoulders and pulls him to the center of the kitchen. Releasing Austria, he grabbed a bottle of red wine and uncorked it, pouring two glasses. He pushed one towards Austria, who just stared at it, and then drank a sip from the second one himself.

"I sneak into your house, while you have guests over, and you pour me a glass of wine?" Austria asked, taking the drink suspiciously.

"I am a pillar of hospitality." France grinned, raising his glass. "And I also know lovesickness when I see it."

Austria took a gulp of the wine. "I am _not_ lovesick."

"Admit it." France laughed, and then gestured towards the closed kitchen door, back towards the rest of the house. "And the object of your affections is involved with another man… poor you, Roderich."

"I do not need your sympathy, Francis." Austria sipped the wine, casting a stormy look toward the Frenchman.

"But you haven't given up on her yet, n'est-ce pas?" France said, swirling the wine in his glass as he peered at the brooding purple-eyed nation.

"I know when to give up. I will retreat with dignity." Austria sighed.

France snorted. "Ah, oui, like that time Prussia beat you up in the war."

Austria's cheeks turned red as he glared at France. "I do _not_ want to talk about that, Francis."

"Fine, fine," said the Frenchman, laughing. "But you, Roderich, you need my help."

"Why?"

"I can help you woo Hungary." He smiled slowly, raising his eyebrows and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Trust me, mon cher, I am nearly a love god. Ask anyone."

Austria sputtered for a minute, face growing red as he tried to refuse France's help and come up with a good-enough insult… and then he sighed, smoothing back his ruffled hair as he shook his head.

"What can you possibly do, Francis?" he said. "It's hopeless. I have already lost."

"Non, non, Roderich." France shook his head vigorously. "Non, I promise you."

"But how?"

"Just let me help, mon ami, and I will show you."

The two looked at each other for a long moment, France with an intense blue gaze, Austria out from sad purple eyes. No one spoke. Until…

"Francis, let me help in the kitchen!" Hungary called from right outside the door.

France leapt to the door to hold it shut; Austria sprinted to the back door and hid outside. Hungary burst into the kitchen and Austria cowered underneath the windowsill as he listened to France and her argue. After a few minutes, she stormed out and slammed the door. France sighed loudly, swearing to himself, and then came outside through the back door.

"So," he said, seeing Austria, "you want my help, oui?"

Austria sighed. "Yes."

In response, France picked a rose and smiled, twirling the flower. "Of course you do, Roderich. Of course you do."


End file.
